


Tapestry

by sparepartsandbrokenhearts



Category: Berena - Fandom, Campwolfe - Fandom, Holby City, bernie/serena - Fandom, serena/bernie - Fandom
Genre: Catherine Russell, F/F, Jemma Redgrave - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-23 11:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8326186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparepartsandbrokenhearts/pseuds/sparepartsandbrokenhearts
Summary: Serena works through her relationship with Bernie Wolfe, with the wise words of Carole King for company.





	1. I Feel The Earth Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart." ~~ Serena enjoys a lazy day in her garden, mere days after that first kiss in "Protect and Serve".

_I feel the earth move under my feet I feel the sky tumbling down, tumbling down_  
_I feel my heart start to trembling_  
_Whenever you're around_  
  
And tremble it did when Bernie Wolfe was around. Or not around. In fact, she couldn't remember a time when one person had dominated her thoughts this much. One woman. Serena Campbell, a name synonymous with surgical skill, sharp wit, and cutting one-liners... now reduced to a stuttering, nervous wreck by the mere presence – or lack thereof – of the Major.  
  
_Ooh, baby, when I see your face_  
_Mellow as the month of May_  
_Oh, darling, I can't stand it_  
_When you look at me that way_  
  
Serena leans back in her garden chair, glass of shiraz held lazily in one hand, a smile creeping across her face. “Funny,” she chuckles to herself, as the music floats through the kitchen, thinking how it was the month of May when the truth of why Bernie's marriage had collapsed was unceremoniously flung onto Keller ward, like a grenade with pin pulled, though the devastation of divorce had already ripped through the Major's life. And now... that bitterness and betrayal Serena had felt towards Bernie for not being truthful with her had dissipated. The weeks and months had passed in a summer haze of stolen glances, unintended (or were they?) touches, and intoxicating evenings of wine and pasta. Emboldened by wine, Serena allows her mind to wander further. She pictures Bernie sat across from her at the patio table, effortlessly cool in wayfarer sunglasses, cigarette in hand. Though their eyes are hidden behind black plastic, both sneak looks at the other, and inwardly they beam, thinking how wonderful life can be. How miraculous that they should walk this same patch of earth at the same time. Serena imagines their feet entwined below the table, skin on skin, these first heady days of their affair before anything more carnal has been explored.  
  
_I feel the earth move under my feet I feel the sky tumbling down, tumbling down_  
_I feel my heart start to trembling_  
_Whenever you're around_  
  
Oh if Bernie was around right now. Serena stares at the blue above her, smiling again, thinking how the sky hasn't just tumbled down; it has cracked wide open. All she knows – or thought she knew – about herself has been a halftruth. Edward, even Robbie... they belong to another time, another life, another Serena. Fires had been lit many moons ago with her first husband and extinguished just as quick with booze, but this was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Serena had drunk from new waters, and a thirst now existed that could not be quenched so easily, and it terrified and thrilled her in equal measure.  
  
_Oh, darling, when you're near me_  
_And you tenderly call my name_  
_I know that my emotions_  
_Are something I just can't tame_  
_I've just got to have you, baby_  
  
“What on earth am I doing?” she asks herself, before draining her glass. She lifts her sunglasses onto her forehead and momentarily closes her eyes for clarity, pinching the bridge of her nose between finger and thumb. But clarity won't come when all thoughts are consumed by the “big macho army medic” that crashed through those Holby doors and into Ms Campbell's life. She recalls those soft “Serenas”, the way Bernie purrs her name, soft, low, and titillating. Serena shivers, though it's August and the sun burns in the sky, and hairs raise on her freckled arms. Tender that voice may be, but the thoughts drifting into Serena's imagination are anything but. They are wild, unfamiliar, and overwhelming. “I wonder how she sounds when she-” - NO. Serena's eyes snap open with the thought. Her mouth is dry and her heart, yes indeed, is trembling, but she shakes off the thought of anything more with Major Wolfe. “Pull yourself together, Campbell,” she snaps, rising from her sun lounger and heading to the kitchen for another glass of wine.  
  
_I feel the earth move under my feet_  
_I feel the sky tumbling down, tumbling down_  
_I feel the earth move under my feet_  
_I feel the sky tumbling down_  
  
She steps barefoot through the kitchen, as the music swells to its climax.  
  
_I just lose control_  
_Down to my very soul_  
  
Her hand shakes as she tips the bottle towards the rim of the glass, the kiss once more replaying in her mind, the feel of Bernie's lips, her mouth hot and wet, sparks crackling in the sliver of air between them as Serena caught courage and went in for more.  
  
_I get a hot and cold all over_  
  
“Cold shower at this rate,” Serena mutters, trying in vain to expel her thoughts.  
  
_I feel the earth move under my feet_  
  
But it's too late. What has passed between them cannot be undone.  
  
_I feel the sky tumbling down,_  
_Tumbling down, tumbling down..._  
  
Eyes closed, hands steadied against the kitchen counter, Serena regains control of the bottle just as the music slows to a stop. Oh yes, the earth did move, the sky tumbled down, and it was all so exquisite.


	2. So Far Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Distance gives us a reason to love harder." ~~ Days and weeks have passed since Bernie left for Kiev. Serena continues to struggle, as does Bernie, 1,500 miles away.

Serena stands in the hallway, lights off, nobody home; Jason must have gone to visit Alan for the evening. She had been used to a solitary home life since Edward abandoned ship and Elinor had gone off to university. Inviting Jason into her life had been an easy decision once she had taken a look at his temporary home. It had been nice to have company again. Robbie's decision to follow Edward's lead and desert her and their future plans was a short-lived pain. Who wants such a man in their life anyway? Not Serena Campbell. Weakness is not attractive.

She flicks the hall light on and opens the cloakroom door to store her coat and bag, but one look inside causes her breath to catch in her throat. Stuffed in a corner, usually hidden by Jason's jacket, is a small canvas bag, green in colour, and camouflage. 

“Always something there to remind me,” she whispers to herself, memories flooding back of that day in the office when she found possibly the most thoughtful gift she had ever received. “Great,” she thinks to herself. Another night just like the one before, and the one before that. 

Ten minutes later and she's clothed in pyjamas and wrapped in a silk leopard-skin dressing gown, glass of shiraz in hand, and ensconced on the couch. Her head rests on her hand as she replays the days and weeks gone by since Bernie walked – ran - the same path trodden by Edward and Robbie. The silence is too much, too oppressive; Serena walks to the mahogany cabinet in the corner, leafs through the vinyl sleeves, and finds what she is looking for. She drops the needle onto track two, and returns to the couch. 

_So far away  
Doesn't anybody stay in one place any more?_

Apparently not. It had taken just 24 hours for Serena to kiss Bernie, commit to Bernie, let slip she might love Bernie, and lose Bernie. She blamed herself. Courage was a drug. The kiss had made her head spin, amazed her with how much she wanted Bernie in that moment, and the many moments that would hopefully follow. But the fear that Bernie may still consider leaving had forced Serena's hand. Doesn't everyone want to be told they're loved? Doesn't everyone want to be begged to stay? 

“Silly woman,” thinks Serena, as she blinks back the tears in her eyes, just as she has done during the many nights preceding. Nobody stays in one place anymore - not Edward, not Robbie, not Major Wolfe. Sandhurst, Birmingham, Basra, Helmand, Holby.......... Kiev. 

_It would be so fine to see your face at my door_  
_It doesn't help to know you're just time away  
Long ago I reached for you and there you stood_

Serena had whiled away many evenings wishing and hoping that a sheepish knock would sound from the front door, and that Bernie would be standing there, head down, all apologies and sighs, but ultimately back to claim, “yes, I know the symptoms too”. The moment had not yet come to pass and it wouldn't, Serena knew, but beneath that British reserve shone a glimmer of hope. It would be fine to see her face at the door; it would be overwhelming joy. 

“You could just.... email her,” says that small, mischievous voice in Ms Campbell's head. But therein lies the rub; it was easy to give in and contact Bernie. It was harder to taste rejection a second time. Serena had laid her heart bare, only for Bernie to turn and run, and to reach out again would be masochism. She had already stood on that precipice, dangling one foot over the edge; to take a leap once more into the unknown, with no certainty Bernie would reach back.... well, a heart half broken could not survive.

_Holding you again could only do me good  
Oh how I wish I could but you're so far away_

Sat on the couch, with only wine, music and lamplight for company, Serena thinks how it would be so good, so healing, to feel those arms around her. She'd forgive Bernie in an instant. Yes, there would be tears and anger, but one embrace in the arms of the Major would vanquish any lingering hurt. 

_One more song about moving along the highway  
Can't say much of anything that's new_

Serena had been moving along the same highway for most of her life. She had devoted her love and her life to care for Edward, Elinor, her mother, Jason, even Robbie in some ways. All of them, aside from Jason, had gone. A sarcastic laugh escapes from her as she listens to the words. Someone else left too?! There was nothing new about that...

_If I could only work this life out my way  
I'd rather spend it being close to you_

She has worked it out, though. It has taken six months of friendship and fights and kisses in hospital rooms to realise that Bernie is what she wants. Serena has done it her way, spending countless nights wide awake in bed combing over every moment, wondering what it meant, questioning her desires, her identity; and yet she remains the consummate professional, the revered surgeon, the boss everyone at Holby secretly hopes to work for. She has worked life out her way, despite the losses, the disappointing men, and the professional challenges she has had to overcome. Serena Campbell knows what she wants; to spend her life with Bernie Wolfe.

\-----------------------------------------  
_But you're so far away  
Doesn't anybody stay in one place any more?_

Major Berenice Wolfe is huddled on the windowsill of her Kiev apartment, cigarette held between fingers, empty glass of single-malt whisky next to her. She stares out of the window into the night sky, stars dancing in between clouds. The nights disturb her the most, much as they did in Afghanistan; the not-knowing, the unseeing, the hush of sleeping bodies all around her. Back home, Bernie had dreamt of holding Serena in her arms at night; she was the big spoon to Serena's small spoon in her fantasy life. On these cold Ukrainian nights when visions of war plague her mind, Bernie awakes with a jolt, wishing Serena was there to hold and comfort her. But she is not. And she may never be.

_It would be so fine to see your face at my door_  
_It doesn't help to know you're so far away  
Yeah yeah so far away_

Bernie lets out a long sigh, recalling her infamous departure from Holby, anguished scenes she has recounted in her mind on many nights. She has deserted Serena, just as she had done Alex, Marcus, her children. To share a drink was safe. To have dinner together was safe. To imagine Serena sleeping next to you during your worst nights was safe. To kiss Serena and then brush it under the carpet was safe. Serena, however, did not play by these rules; she wore heart on sleeve. There was nothing safe in pretending your feelings didn't exist. Safety was worth discarding if all those dreams you had could come true. If kisses and comfort and love and intimacy could flourish. Bernie had terrified the life out of Serena with that first kiss, but the second had sent Bernie, yet again, running scared. To Kiev.

_Traveling around sure gets me down and lonely  
Nothing else to do but close my mind_

Bernie is down and lonely. She knows it doesn't have to be this way. She has spent her life travelling, careering from pillar to post in the military, fleeting moments with the children, fleeting moments with Marcus, with Alex, with IEDs, and now with Serena. But it's easier this way; she compartmentalises all feelings and attachments, enabling her to deal with the trauma she faces every day on the operating table. And yet this time, something is different. Her stomach feels like lead whenever she thinks of Serena, home alone, working alone. Marcus never inspired this kind of pain, this longing. She yearns for Serena's touch. Hates herself for hurting her, running from her, and leaving her to pick up the pieces and face the Holby rumour mill alone. She misses Serena's cheer in the morning. Misses their shared coffee in Pulses. Misses the banter, and the surgery, the eyebrow raise, the way Serena plays with her necklace when she's excited or nervous, misses misses misses....

_I sure hope the road don't come to own me  
There's so many dreams I've yet to find_

Bernie takes another glance up at the sky. Maybe somewhere back home Serena is gazing at the sky too. The thought brings a smile to Bernie's face, for they share the same sky, despite thousands of miles and two time zones between them. She pours another large single-malt, silently vowing not to let this way of life become the norm, because she knows that life can be wonderful if only she would let it. Because she knows what her and Serena have shared over the last six months is worth a try. Because she is tired of running. Tired of being on the road. Tired of grasping at her dreams like sugar-stealers in the wind, almost within reach but drifting so far away. Serena reached for her; perhaps it's time to reach back.


	3. Where You Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven." ~~ Bernie is coming home. This is the third and final chapter of this work. Thank you for your kudos and kind comments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously non-canon, but my dream of how their reunion might play out.

_Wanting you the way I do_ __  
_I only want to be with you_ __  
_And I would go to the ends of the earth_ _  
_ _'Cause, darling, to me that's what you're worth_

Bernie tugs the white earphone out of her ear, swallows, and grimaces at the pain. Even after years of travelling in military helicopters and planes, she still suffers from ear pain at high altitudes.

“Excuse me, could I have a glass of water?” she asks the flight attendant, who smiles and passes her a small plastic glass. “Oh! And do you have shiraz perhaps?”

She allows herself a small, playful smile as she sips the red wine, her mind casting back to _that_ night in the Italian restaurant, and how she longed to taste shiraz on Serena's lips. The events of the following day had put paid to that longing, but in the weeks that had passed since that night, Bernie had thought of little else other than Ms Campbell and if she could rebuild what she had broken with her departure. She had completed her secondment on the trauma unit in Kiev much earlier than planned, throwing herself into the work so as not to think too much about Holby. This strategy worked within the confines of a hospital, but alone at night in her dank apartment, with only a bottle of Talisker for company, her resolve crumbled.

It was time to be brave, to reach back, to face the cold, hard truth of whether Serena and her had a future or not. She now found herself on a KLM flight high above Poland, heading west to her love, hoping it wasn't too late.

*  
  
_Where you lead, I will follow_ __  
_Anywhere that you tell me to_ __  
_If you need, you need me to be with you_ _  
__I will follow where you lead_

Serena is at home after a rather uneventful shift on AAU. The clocks have gone back, it's dark at 5pm, and she is glad of a warm fire and a brandy. The days seem longer without Bernie, the nights even more so. It was entirely unethical to say it, but she'd prefer a shift of all hell breaking loose with Bernie beside her than days of clock-watching and board meetings. Despite the gossips and Chinese whispers all around her on the ward, she still loved her job, but without her comrade across the operating table, things were just a bit less enthralling.  
  
Three weeks had past since Serena had gathered the shiraz-fuelled courage to send _that_ email. Putting her pride aside, she had told Bernie to return to Holby, disguising her own needs behind those of the “hospital”. There was no lie in that email; she had tired of anger, because anger hadn't brought Bernie back any sooner, anger hadn't quelled the rumours, and anger certainly hadn't helped her stats on AAU. Serena had put her heart on the line for Bernie, not caring if patients and staff saw their confrontation, wild suggestions of meeting half way and weekend visits falling from her lips. Bernie was wrong. Serena didn't need more time to work out what she wanted; she had watched Arthur die, Fletch fight for his life, Edward and Robbie walk away from her. She would have followed Bernie to Kiev for raunchy weekends. In those heady moments when sparks flew between them, she would have followed her to the ends of the earth if she had asked.  
  
*  
  
_If you're out on the road_ __  
_Feeling lonely and so cold_ __  
_All you have to do is call my name_ __  
_And I'll be there on the next train_  
  
No trains, but a taxi, a plane, a two hour layover, another plane, and a final taxi were more than enough travel for one day. Bernie is sick of being on the road, but her nausea this time is caused by more than just travel and fatigue-induced motion sickness. Serena had called her name, in a rather conspicuous way, and here she is, back in cold and rainy Blighty, hoping her efforts aren't in vain. In the weeks since they had last seen each other, the Major had spent many nights wondering if she should – if she could – phone Serena. How her heart had jumped at the sight of Serena's email in her inbox, the subject reading “What next...?”

Bernie was tired of being a coward; hiding behind British reserve was overrated. Within hours she had finalised her departure from the hospital in Kiev and had booked a flight home. Now she sits in the warmth of a cab, meandering through traffic outside Bristol Airport, neon streetlights reflecting on the wet tarmac as the car moves onwards towards Holby. She knew her first port of call and the thought made her stomach flutter. This was a time for bravery; she was brave enough to dodge bullets on the front line, brave enough to instruct two highly-qualified surgeons on how they should operate on her after the IED attack, and brave enough to tell the truth when her son's future depended on it. She had lost love once already this year; history was not about to repeat itself.  
  
*  
  
_I always wanted a real home with flowers on the window sill_ __  
_But if you want to live in Holby City, honey, you know I will_ __  
_I never thought I could get satisfaction from just one woman_ __  
_But, if anyone could keep me happy, you're the one who can_  
  
Serena is dozing on the couch, Vivaldi's violin concerto “Autumn” playing softly in the background, but a sharp wrap on the oak front door awakes her with a jolt. She glances at the clock, which reads 9pm; did Jason forget his key? Lifting herself off the sofa, she knocks the brandy tumbler over, thankful it is empty, and trundles into the hallway.

“Coming,” she says, as she unbolts the lock and unhinges the chain.

The door swings open and standing there, in a drenched Mackintosh, hair plastered to her head, is Major Berenice Wolfe. In one hand she holds a bunch of purple angelonia flowers. In the other, she clutches a vintage bottle of shiraz.

“Serena,” she whispers, eyes glued to the brunette in front of her wrapped in silk dressing gown, mouth agape.

“I don't suppose you fancy a drink do you?”

Serena hasn't breathed in the last 30 seconds. After weeks of fantasizing about this moment, what she would say, do... the words stick in her throat.

“If you haven't got time...” Bernie continues, turning her head, motioning to leave.

Serena, shocked into action at the mere suggestion Bernie might go – again - reaches her hand forward and grasps Bernie's wrist.

“I have time,” she replies weakly, tears forming in her eyes.

Bernie smiles and places the flowers and wine on the sideboard.

“Sorry about the flowers. I suppose roses are more traditional, but this mix of angelonia is named 'Serena'. It seemed more approp--” but Bernie is cut off mid-sentence, as Serena pulls her forward, mouths meeting for the first time in what feels like eons. Bernie wraps her arms around Serena, embracing her as if she never plans to let go, her wet hands caressing through her brown hair, slipping comfortably round her neck, and coming to rest on her cheeks. Their lips break apart finally, reluctantly, foreheads leaning against one another.

“I've been wanting to do that for weeks,” says Bernie, and Serena laughs for what also feels like the first time in ages, recalling their encounter in the office a lifetime ago.

“As have I,” Serena replies, fighting back the tears that won't be restrained. Bernie's fingers find them, wiping them away one by one, praying that happy tears are the only tears she'll cause Serena from now on. Her cold and wet skin is all the salve Serena needs.

“Serena, I'm so sorry, for everyth--” but Bernie is cut off once again, as Serena raises a finger to her lips.

“There's time for that later, Major. You're here now.”

 


End file.
